ILSE.

I took it right out of his hand when I came along in the morning.

MARTHA.

Give it to me, Ilse!----Please give it to me!

ILSE.

No, I'm going to keep it for a souvenir.

MARTHA.

Is it true, Ilse, that he lay there without a head?

ILSE.

He must have loaded it with water!----The mulleins were spattered all over with blood. His brains were scattered about the pasture.

SCENE THIRD.

_Herr and Frau Gabor._

FRAU GABOR.

They needed a scapegoat. They did not dare meet the charge that was made everywhere against themselves. And now that my child has had the misfortune to run his head into the noose at the right moment, shall I, his own mother, help to end the work of his executioners?----G.o.d keep me from it!

HERR GABOR.

For fourteen years I have looked on at your spirited educational methods in silence. They were contrary to my ideas. I had always lived in the conviction that a child was not a plaything; a child should have a claim upon our most earnest efforts. But, I said to myself, if the spirit and the grace of the one parent are able to compensate for the serious maxims of the other, they may be given preference over the serious maxims.----I am not reproaching you, f.a.n.n.y, but don't stand in my way when I seek to right your injustice and mine toward the lad.

FRAU GABOR.

I will block the way for you as long as a warm drop of blood beats in me. My child would be lost in the House of Correction. A criminal nature might be bettered in such an inst.i.tution. I don't know. A fine natured man would just as surely turn into a criminal, like the plants when they are kept from sun and light. I am conscious of no injustice on my part. To-day, as always, I thank heaven that it showed me the way to awaken righteousness of character and n.o.bility of thought in my child. What has he done which is so frightful? It doesn't occur to me to apologize for him----now that they have hunted him out of school, he bears no fault! And if it was his fault he has paid for it. You may know better. You may be entirely right theoretically. But I cannot allow my only child to be forcibly hunted to death.

HERR GABOR.

That doesn't depend on us, f.a.n.n.y. That is the risk we took with our happiness. He who is too weak to march stops by the wayside. And, in the end, it is not the worst when what was certain to come comes in time to be bettered. Heaven protect us from that! It is our duty to strengthen the loiterer as long as reason supplies a means.----That they have hunted him out of school is not his own fault. If they hadn't hunted him out of school, that wouldn't have been his fault, either!----You are so lighthearted. You perceive inconsiderable trifles when the question concerns a fundamental injury to character.

You women are not accustomed to judge such things. Anyone who can write what Melchior wrote must be rotten to the core of his being.

The mark is plain. A half-healthy nature wouldn't do such a thing.

None of us are saints. Each of us wanders from the straight path. His writing, on the contrary, tramples on principle. His writing is no evidence of a chance slip in the usual way; it sets forth with dreadful plainness and a frankly definite purpose that natural longing, that propensity for immorality, because it is immorality.

His writing manifests that exceptional state of spiritual corruption which we jurists cla.s.sify under the term "moral imbecility."----If anything can be done in his case, I am not able to say. If we want to preserve a glimmer of hope, and keep our spotless consciences as the parents of the victim, it is time for us to go to work determinedly in earnest.--Don't let us contend any more, f.a.n.n.y! I feel how hard it is for you. I know that you idolize him because he expresses so entirely your genial nature. Be stronger than yourself. Show yourself for once devoid of self-interest towards your son.

FRAU GABOR.

G.o.d help me, how can one get along that way! One must be a man to be able to talk that way! One must be a man to be able to blind oneself so with the dead letter! One must be a man to be so blind that one can't see what stares him in the eyes. I have conscientiously and thoughtfully managed Melchior from his first day, because I found him impressionable to his surroundings. Are we answerable for what has happened? A tile might fall off the roof upon your head to-morrow, and then comes your friend--your father, and, instead of taking care of you, tramples upon you!----I will not let my child be destroyed before my eyes. That's the reason I'm his mother.----It is inconceivable! It is not to be believed! What did he write, then, after all! Isn't it the most striking proof of his harmlessness, of his stupidity, of his childish obscurity, that he can write so!----One must possess no intuitive knowledge of mankind----one must be an out and out bureaucrat, or weak in intellect, to scent moral corruption here!----Say what you will. If you land Melchior in the House of Correction, I will get a divorce. Then let me see if I can't find help and means somewhere in the world to rescue my child from destruction.

HERR GABOR.

You must prepare yourself for it----if not to-day, then to-morrow. It is not easy for anyone to discount misfortune. I will stand beside you, and when your courage begins to fail will spare no trouble or effort to relieve your heart. The future seems so gray to me, so full of clouds----it only remains for you to leave me too.

FRAU GABOR.

I should never see him again: I should never see him again! He can't bear the vulgar. He will not be able to stand the dirt. He will break under restraint; the most frightful examples will be before his eyes!----And if I see him again----O, G.o.d, O, G.o.d, that joyous heart----his clear laughter----all, all,----his childish resolution to fight courageously for good and righteousness----oh, this morning sky, how I cherished it light and pure in his soul as my highest good----Hold me to account if the sin cries for expiation! Hold me to account! Do with me what you will! I will bear the guilt.----But keep your frightful hand off the boy.

HERR GABOR.

He has gone wrong!

FRAU GABOR.

He has not gone wrong!

HERR GABOR.

He has gone wrong!----I would have given everything to be able to spare your boundless love.----A terrified woman came to me this morning, scarcely able to control her speech, with this letter in her hand----a letter to her fifteen-year-old daughter. She had opened it simply out of curiosity; the girl was not at home.----In the letter Melchior explains to the fifteen-year-old girl that his manner of acting left him no peace, that he had sinned against her, etc., etc., and that naturally he would answer for it. She must not fret herself even if she felt results. He was already on the road after help; his expulsion made it easier for him. The previous false step could still lead to her happiness----and more of such irrational nonsense.

FRAU GABOR.

Impossible!

HERR GABOR.

The letter is forged. It's a cheat. Somebody is trying to take advantage of his generally known expulsion. I have not yet spoken to the lad about it----but please look at this hand! See the writing!

FRAU GABOR.

An unprecedented, shameless bit of knavery!

HERR GABOR.

That's what I'm afraid!

FRAU GABOR.

No, no----never, never!

HERR GABOR.

It would be so much the better for us.----The woman, wringing her hands, asked me what she should do. I told her she should not leave her fifteen-year-old daughter lying about a haymow. Fortunately she left me the letter.----If we send Melchior to another grammar school, where he is not under parental supervision, in three weeks we shall have the same result.----A new expulsion----his joyful heart will get used to it after awhile.----Tell me, f.a.n.n.y, where shall I send the lad?

FRAU GABOR.

To the House of Correction----

HERR GABOR.

To the?----